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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713470">the scenic route was never so long</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlyng/pseuds/howlyng'>howlyng</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Infinity Gems, Magic, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers (2012), Road Trips, Sort Of, Time Travel, Wilderness Survival, involuntary road trips, note: i use the term “friend“ very loosely, this story actually has three povs but two of them are steve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:27:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlyng/pseuds/howlyng</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the plan goes to shit, it goes to shit fast. </p><p>One moment Steve is quietly smiling to himself, a spring to his step with the Hydra agents’ dumbfounded expressions fresh in his mind. The next- </p><p>Well. </p><p>Two weeks ago, if someone had asked Steve to choose two people to get stranded with on a strange planet, himself and Thor’s wannabe-tyrant brother wouldn’t have made his top picks.</p><p>-</p><p>In a nutshell: 2012 Steve runs into Loki after all. But not before 2023 Steve runs into him. </p><p>Somehow, this leads to the worst hiking trip of their lives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki &amp; Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>One moment you get a stupid idea, the next you have 15k of fic and more to come.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the plan goes to shit, it goes to shit fast.</p><p>One moment Steve is quietly smiling to himself, a spring to his step with the Hydra agents’ dumbfounded expressions fresh in his mind. The next-<br/>
<br/>
“Building-wide alert, all units. Target Loki, maximum force,“ a tinny voice barks. The warm glow of success is gone in an instant, replaced by creeping dread. Either his memory really is going <span>with age, or t</span>his definitely didn’t happen on the previous round. How the others have managed to screw up badly enough to let loose a homicidal Norse god, Steve doesn’t know, but the array of worst case scenarios popping up in his adrenaline-fuelled imagination isn’t doing his anxiety favours.</p><p>“Tony, what’s going on? Tell me you’ve found that cube...“ He twists around, half expecting spiky hair and green eyes skulking in the shadows, ready to pounce. Returns his gaze to the direction he’s walking in.</p><p>Feels a deep weariness settle in his bones at the sight of his own face, shifting from bewilderment to stubborn resolve as his younger self assumes a battle stance.</p><p>“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me.“</p><p>The other Steve approaches, fire in his eyes, and Steve cringes despite himself. With a helmet like that, it’s a little difficult to take a guy seriously. <em>Not the time</em>. He chases the thought away. If his younger self has made the admittedly logical conclusion he thinks he has-</p><p>“I have eyes on Loki. Fourteenth floor,“ the other Steve says to his comm, eyes locked on him. Steve risks a sigh, tightens his grip on the shield but keeps his posture neutral. In moments like this, he could swear he can feel the weight of all those years in the ice. Meeting his own eyes, he searches the words that will drag him through this mess without further complications. Knowing, at the back of his mind, that he’s not going to find them.</p><p>“I’m not Loki,“ comes out, lamely. Nice, Rogers. Gingerly, he sets the case on the ground in a display of peaceful intentions. The other Steve’s eyes flicker to it minutely before returning to meet his, unimpressed. “I don’t wanna hurt you,“ he adds, hoping, <em>praying</em>, let him not be his stubborn self just this once. Let his words be enough.</p><p>But he’s not Natasha. And he knows himself.</p><p>He sees the twitch of muscle a millisecond before a blur of red and white and blue comes charging at him. Sparks fly as the shield directed at his chest comes into contact with his own with a <em>clang</em>. He deflects the next one with a swing, uses the opportunity to go for a punch, only to go flying back to dodge a kick aimed at his jaw. His own kick is deflected, and then he’s sailing through the air into hard glass.</p><p>“I can do this all day,“ says his own voice, and Steve doesn’t try to hold back his grimace as he pushes himself to his feet. “Yeah, I know,“ he whines through gritted teeth. This is what he gets for being off his game. He still trains – and he’s pretty sure serum-induced muscle doesn’t diminish in disuse the way the normal variety does anyway – but it’s been years since his last real fight. The physical kind, anyway. Couple that with trying not to punch his own teeth out and an opponent that anticipates his every move…</p><p>If Bucky could see him now, he’d be laughing his ass off. The thought gives him some strength.</p><p>A few bruises later Steve yelps as his kick goes wide and the case containing the scepter disappears over the ledge. He hooks a leg around the other Steve’s to trip him, succeeds too well, and fingers digging into Steve’s shoulder send them (him?) both pummelling into the layers of glass floors below. <em>Crash, crash, thump</em>, down the stairs, onto polished tile in a tidal wave of gaudy costume, sweat and shards of glass.</p><p>For approximately two seconds they lie there, panting.</p><p>Steve scrambles to his feet, ignoring the way his right knee protests under his weight, lunges at a flash of gold in his peripheral. A harsh exhale to his right and the sound of glass crushing against tile tell him he’s not the only one. Steve is closer. But his knee hurts and his side hurts more and shards of glass don’t provide much grip against stone. A shard slides under his booth, and then the floor is approaching faster than he’d like. Instinctively he curls up to absorb the impact, unfurls and makes a mad clamber to to close the last few feet, reaches out-</p><p>Steve’s fingers close around surprisingly warm metal. A shout of victory turns into a cry out as something snatches the scepter off the ground, yanking his arm along.</p><p>He looks up. Loki looks back, almost as stunned as Steve feels. In his left hand, still shackled to the other, the Tesseract pulses a sickly blue. A beat passes. Loki’s brows drop into a frown. He gives the shaft what’s probably as brisk a shake as he can manage – which is impressively so – with the manacles binding his wrists, and Steve’s left hand shoots out to secure his grip as he clings on. If literally half the life in the universe weren’t as stake, Steve might find the situation comical. As it is…</p><p>Loki’s knee might as well be made of vibranium, if the sharp pain in his jaw is anything to go by. Steve hurtles back with a muffled cry, his grip coming loose as a coppery taste blooms on his tongue from where his teeth sink into his tongue. He breaks his fall on agile feet, springs forward towards his target to feel his breath catch as his eyes fall on the Tesseract. The glow intensifies as he watches, building and building at an alarming rate until it’s hard to look at. A cloud of incandescent energy swirls around Loki and Steve knows he’s too far away, he’s not going to make it, and although Loki’s mouth is firmly enclosed behind the muzzle he can see green-blue eyes narrow in a victorious smirk.</p><p>“Duck!“</p><p>Instinct takes over and Steve drops to the floor. A gust of air tousles the hairs at the top of his head as the shield makes a graceful arc over his head; directly into Loki’s unprotected temple. Faintly, Steve winces at the hollow <em>b</em><em>ong</em> of metal meeting bone. Any human would have a shield-shaped dent in their brain. Loki’s head snaps back painfully and he staggers backwards, struggling for balance, and Steve sees his opportunity.</p><p>He glances over his shoulder and meets his own eyes, wide and dazed but no longer hostile. Who – or <em>whatever</em> this Steve thinks he is, it seems like the status of biggest threat on the battlefield has shifted. Steve is almost grateful. He never knew how to pick his battles, literally and figuratively, but he isn’t stupid. Wary confusion hardens to determination and Steve takes it as the quiet agreement it is. The whole exchange takes less than a second and then they’re moving, closing in on their target on two sides.</p><p>Loki has found his footing. The Tesseract, awkwardly gripped in one shackled hand, casts the lower half of his face in an ominous glow as the cloud of energy begins to pick up from where it left off. Steve braces himself and lunges for the scepter while a blue arrow to his left approaches the Tesseract. Loki may be a god – a claim Steve finds dubious – but surely even a god can’t win a fight while shackled, magic bound and battle-weary. Besides, fighting a target stronger than himself is something Steve has some experience with. Even if that skill hasn’t seen much use for a while.</p><p>Loki darts forward towards the closing gap between the two of them – too slow. Steve catches him by the shoulder with both hands, savours the stifled little sound of surprise and uses Loki’s own momentum to flip him over and slam him to the floor back first. The blue glow envelops them now, almost blinding, but Steve hears the distinctive clatter of metal, as well as a clink almost like ice breaking. He drops, blindly groping the whirlpool of energy with his right hand pinning Loki, only to roll to his side out of the way of a kick that would’ve cracked ribs.</p><p>“Mh!“ Steve swivels at the sound of Loki’s muzzle-suppressed protest, follows his gaze to the other Steve’s gloved fingers closing around a blue star so bright he can’t look at it directly. Loki lunges forward, pulling Steve with him, and before he has the time to curse the world turns blue.</p><p>-</p><p>Loki awakens to pain.</p><p>It’s hardly the worst he’s felt upon regaining consciousness, not even within the past months. Years? Time so often escapes him, lately. Still – there’s a dull ache running along his arm, rippling into his chest and shoulders. The epicenter seems to be his right hand. The palm throbs like a fresh burn. Only his fingers are exempt, cold and void of sensation. Experimentally, he wiggles them. The movement is barely more than a twitch, but the area explodes in static as if he has dipped his hand into a nest of fire ants. He swallows his hiss and works his fingers open and closed, willing feeling to return, to no avail. When a particularly ambitious stretch results in what feels like a red-hot rod of iron jabbed into his seidr, he opts for surrender. A magical injury, then.</p><p>And at least two of his ribs are broken.</p><p>He can’t remember what happened, but then… he isn’t certain he wants to. Maw takes great pride in the creativity of his punishments. It wouldn’t be the first time he-</p><p>No. That isn’t right. He was sent to Midgard, Earth – the invasion, <em>Thor</em>-</p><p>His eyes snap open. For a moment there is no obvious difference, only dark <em>nothing</em> and his breathing picks up into shallow gasps that he knows will soon escape his control, but then his vision begins to adjust and a faint glow at the edges of it pulls him from the edge. The ground underneath is hard and cool but dry – stone. Above him, he can just make out poles of stalactite disappearing into the dark, the arching ceiling from which they reach down obscured in shadow. Somewhere, the uneven drip of water cuts the heavy, still air. A cave. And not just any cave.</p><p>Memories bleed back alongside the air entering his lungs. The muzzle is gone, no doubt courtesy of the Captain – Captains, and isn’t that an enigma – which he refuses to feel grateful for. The shackles he doesn’t need to see to know they are there. The conspicuous, oppressive presence biting into his seidr is revealing enough.</p><p>This is mildly <span>w</span><span>orrisome. He can’t guess at the long-term effects of such a choke hold, but it doesn’t feel good no</span><span>w, </span><span>and he presumes it’s only going to get </span><span>w</span><span>orse. An enchantment ensures that the device responds to a select fe</span><span>w </span><span>persons only – the so-called ‘Avengers, namely. He will find a </span><span>w</span><span>ay to rid himself of the thing by himself, sooner or later, but he’d rather it be sooner. </span></p><p>There’s something else, though. Or rather, the lack of. A silence at the back of his mind that, if he inspects too closely, leaves him breathless with… joy? Fear? Relief?</p><p>“Loki?“ He falls still, holding his breath. Exhales, but doesn’t answer. He has no words for them. “I think Loki’s awake,“ one of the Captains continues to… himself?</p><p>“Shit,“ the other murmurs, and Loki takes some enjoyment in the unease in his voice. “You sure we shouldn’t just leave while we still can?“</p><p>“You probably should,“ Loki tries to drawl, but his voice hitches. He fights back the heat rising to his face with a fervour, even though the two couldn’t make it out in the dark with their human-grade eyes. “A word of advice – I would feel less inclined to tear your throats out if you ceased to talk about me like I’m not present.“ There’s a brief silence.</p><p>“I’d feel less inclined to put this muzzle back on if you watched your tongue,“ retorts the Captain that last spoke. Loki gets the ludicrous urge to snort. In lieu of answering, he wrangles himself into a sitting position against the stony wall using his elbows as leverage. It takes more effort than he would like, and he takes great care to ignore the Captains’ eyes on him.</p><p>The two captains are huddled next to the opposite wall, in an alcove created by a shallow depression in the floor. The cavity is shielded by the ceiling which protrudes from the wall almost horizontally, barely high enough for a grown person to stand below, before plunging up into the darkness. Two decidedly unfriendly pairs of eyes are latched onto him. It is not them, though, that catch his attention.</p><p>Beside the Captain closer to the back wall, the Tesseract casts the cave in a faint blue glow.</p><p>He feels its song, of course. His bound magic and the residue energy pulsing his veins may have numbed his perception before, but the sensation is unmistakable. Not as powerful as before, but familiar. It calls to him, and Loki feels his seidr answer on its own accord despite the restraints holding it down. The Captain notices his stare, narrows his eyes and absently nudges the cube closer to the wall as if the arm’s length of extra distance is enough to protect it. Loki debates commenting but deems the words aren’t worth the effort. Or the potential consequences.</p><p>“Where are we, Loki?“ asks the other Captain. There is something… off about him. Traces of a foreign energy embedded in his being that have the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Whatever is going on, this one is the odd one out.</p><p>“Who are you?“</p><p>The Captains share a glance. The odd one opens his mouth, but the original is faster.</p><p>“We’re asking the questions here.“</p><p>Loki inclines his head and dismisses the biting remark on his tongue. “How about a bargain; you answer my question, I answer yours. Fair, no?“ The original has the audacity to snort, and Loki stifles the surge of anger into a slight frown.</p><p>“You think you’re in a position to bargain?“ Not really, but he isn’t going to say that. “The way Thor talked about you-“ Oh, no, he is not going to linger on that. “-I got the impression you were smart. You invaded Earth, killed dozens of innocent people, good people I knew-“ He cuts off, collecting himself. “I don’t believe in retributive justice, but if you think you have the upper hand here, well… sorry, but you’re gonna be disappointed.“</p><p>“Are you done?“ The original jumps to his feet, and Loki splays his shackled hands in surrender. “Fine, yes, point taken. Calm yourself.“ The Captain didn’t strike him as the type to rise his hand against an unarmed opponent, but he knows better than to assume. The man’s scowl still burns with vengeful fire, but he lowers himself back beside the Tesseract. He considers not responding, but decides against it. He has already lost, hasn’t he?</p><p>“At a guess… we are in a cave.“ The temptation to stop there submerges at the sight of the original’s eyes narrowing dangerously. “On Vanaheim. Just shy of a hundred miles from the nearest settlement.“</p><p>“Vanaheim?“</p><p>“One of the Nine Realms. Much like Asgard, in several regards, and the most powerful under its reign.“</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“It’s a simple enough matter to transport you back to Midgard,“ he says at last. More for the sake of being able to say he tried than because of any illusions of benefit. Not in small part because the statement contains two lies.</p><p>Firstly, attempting to channel the power of an infinity stone directly after suffering an injury from the reckless handling of said stone could hardly be described as simple.</p><p>Or maybe not. Losing an arm would quite simple.</p><p>Secondly, Midgard would be the last destination on his mind if he got his hands on Space – a fact of which he is sure the Captains are well aware. Indeed, when he checks to see their reactions, the Captains are sporting identical frowns.</p><p>“Did you seriously think we’d fall for that,“ the original asks. He sounds almost affronted. Loki shrugs. The movement hurts.</p><p>“Not really,“ he admits. If the answer fails to satisfy the Captain, he doesn’t bother to press the matter.</p><p>“Why here?“ asks the odd one after a moment, strangely tired in contrast to his twin’s anger. Loki bites the inside of his cheek, opting to play ignorant instead of surrendering the answer. He may have lost, but he still has his pride. Or what remains of it. Perhaps it's petty, to cling onto this last scrap of power, of agency, like a child refusing to discard a broken toy. But Loki never claimed he wasn't petty.</p><p>“Why here what?“</p><p>The rubbery fabric of the original’s garish suit rustles as he leans forward, gazing at him darkly. The effect is somewhat diluted by the helmet he is still wearing. “Loki,“ he says simply. The warning isn’t lost to him. For a second or two he meets the blue eyes, challenging, holding onto his silence.</p><p>“I… did not intend to come to this place.“</p><p>“You didn’t intend to?“ echoes the original, incredulous. Loki bristles.</p><p>“I was distracted! Entirely because of you, I should add. If <em>you </em>hadn’t-“</p><p>“So it’s our fault now that we’re stranded God knows where, on another planet of all things! I- shit.“ The Captain rises on his feet again and Loki shrinks into the wall, wary, but he only paces a short distance towards the entrance, his back to the others, locks his hands behind his head.</p><p>“It’s not enough that I spend seventy years in the ice and wake up to a strange world, huh,“ he mutters, silently enough that Loki thinks he didn’t mean to be heard. Then he turns, suddenly awkward as if ashamed of his outburst. Interesting. “I’m gonna – is it safe outside? There aren’t… alien bears that’ll gobble me up the moment I set foot outside?“</p><p>“There are certainly bears,“ offers Loki unhelpfully. Not much different than the ones on Midgard, but he is under no obligation to share that information. There are some beasts here that do pose a real danger, even to the Aesir and Vanir, but most are rare due to the extensive hunting efforts of valour-hungry warriors. He doubts he is lucky enough that one will happen upon their good Captain on his walk.</p><p>He receives a scowl for his answer, and a terse “alright.“ Then, milder, “I’m gonna just – get some fresh air, I’ll be right back.“He rushes out, and Loki finds himself alone with the oddity.</p><p>“So,“ he starts eventually, returning his gaze to the alcove, “I haven’t seen anything quite like you before.“ Strangely enough, the oddity smiles ruefully.</p><p>“Yeah. I bet you haven’t.“ Loki knows his implied question was understood, and waits. Sure enough, “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. I can’t imagine anything I could say that’d make things worse than they already are.“ A pause, and Loki’s curiosity holds his tongue. “I’m Steve, just as much as he is…“ He nods his head in the vague direction of the entrance. “…except I’m from the future.“</p><p>His first instinct is denial. Like raising the dead, time travel is one of those topics that scholars of magic have been studying for as long as there have been written records. A field of research that has proven fruitless, and is considered a waste of time by most experts worth their salt. The few studies that claim to have made significant discoveries have been widely disregarded as fabricated. The proposition that <em>Midgard</em>, a realm that has barely worked out travel outside its own planet, would be the pioneer to solve a problem that has mystified the learned of the Nine millennia after millennia is ludicrous. </p><p>Unless…</p><p>“You have the Time Stone?“ he chokes out, uncaring of the way his voice rises. “How – do you have any idea of the magnitude of the destruction you could cause with your meddling? What kind of effects simply being in contact with a Stone will have on a weak life form such as yourself?“ A mortal body, slowly torn apart by the overlapping, ever-changing currents of time. It might be fascinating to see.  “It's only a matter of time before-“</p><p>“What- No! We don’t have the Time Stone. And I'm not a weak life form.“ The latter sentence is delivered quietly, almost petulantly.</p><p>“Then how-“</p><p>“A… friend built a machine. A time machine.“ He reaches into his belt, pulls out a strange little device and gazes down at it mournfully. The contraption is clearly broken, the better part of it crushed into a mess of shard, wire and hair-thin cracks spreading into the more or less intact parts like web. “Not very useful anymore, I’m afraid. I must’ve fallen on top of it when we landed…“ the oddity laments.</p><p>“A time machine,“ he parrots, dubious. Still… Though unlikely, it does make more sense, as much as it grates to admit. In the off chance that the mortals stumbled upon a Stone and worked out how to operate it, somehow, such a disturbance would have been powerful enough for even Thor with his raw, lawless magic to notice. And the humans have already proven themselves resourceful. Once again, curiosity lifts its head. “And what would you need to come here for?“ A thought enters his mind, accompanied by a peculiar chill. “Did… something follow me to Midgard?“</p><p>The Captain gives him a sharp look that does nothing for his accelerating heartbeat. He had known, of course. When he lay in a crater the shape of himself in the floor of Stark’s kitchen, probably even before that. Perhaps when he first rose to his feet in a hall swimming in Tesseract blue, surrounded by terrified mortals, their helmets and guns and fragile bones. Had known that he would fail, and that Thanos and his children would follow. <em>No barren moon</em>. Had the humans fought? Had Thanos slaughtered them like animals, leaving the few that remained struggling to rebuild from the scraps left behind? Had <em>Thor</em>-</p><p>“Not right away. But… yeah. He did.“ It’s a little difficult to breathe, suddenly. The words are rolling off his tongue before he can stop them.</p><p>“And Thor, is he-“ he cuts off, cursing himself as his attempt at bored curiosity crumbles under the weight of the name. This is his fabled silvertongue in action? The Captain’s gaze on him is heavy like a physical thing.</p><p>“He’s alive.“</p><p>And if that makes a clenching knot in his gut unfurl, the Captain certainly doesn’t need to know.</p><p>“Ah.“</p><p>“What, that’s it?“</p><p>“Is there something else you expect me to say?“</p><p>The Captain regards him, openly puzzled. “I guess not, just… Don’t you want to know what happens?“ He barks a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t tell me – Scott was right. The butterfly effect is real and the more things I change… I tell you too much and I’m gonna alter the future so much that this version of me gets wiped from existence, or there’s a paradox- gosh, I should really leave these things to Tony.“ His tone is one of joyless irony, but faced with Loki’s confused silence he stiffens. “That… isn’t it, is it?“</p><p>Loki blinks at the dawning alarm on the Captain’s face, taking in his words. This ‘Scott’ isn’t anyone he is familiar with, and he isn’t going to waste time deciphering the part about butterflies, but he believes he grasps the gist of the man’s ramblings. He doesn’t bother disguising the amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Worry not, Captain. This timeline diverged from your own some time ago. Your future remains unaltered.“ He receives a slow nod in response as the Captain sits back.</p><p>“I assume you have explained the situation to the… other one.“</p><p>“I have, yeah.“</p><p>“And how did that go?“</p><p>The grimace his words induce is answer enough. “We worked it out,“ he says vaguely. Loki resists the urge to investigate, settling for the rather amusing mental image that he assumes is fairly close to the truth. For a moment, the two of them listen to the sounds of the cave. The earliest birds have begun reciting their repertories. It will be morning soon.</p><p>“Then why don’t you?“</p><p>Persistent, isn’t he? Loki inclines his head and studies the oddity until he shifts, betraying discomfort, but doesn’t avert his gaze. Silently hopes that the man will be too focused holding his ground to detect Loki’s own, growing unease. “What is there to hear?“ he says, casual tone belied by the way his voice is taut like a string out of tune. </p><p>“It’s predictable enough – I am taken back to Asgard and promptly executed, or imprisoned indefinitely. Thor returns to his precious Midgard, to his lover and newfound friends. Him, yourself and your group of warriors perform petty heroics until Thanos arrives and crushes you like insects. The Nine is no match for his army. He acquires whichever Stones he does not yet possess, annihilates half the life in the universe, leaving what remains bleeding out in the debris. Or scrambling for whatever fantastical solution they can compose, apparently. As for myself… In the unlikely case that I am unfortunate enough for Thanos to capture me alive, I assume the punishment for my failure will be in order.“</p><p>The Captain is staring at him like he’s transformed into some kind of grisly beast. “Am I wrong?“ he challenges, folding his hands in his lap in an attempt to hide their insidious tremor. Anticipating and dreading the answer in equal measure. He knows he isn’t, but to hear it, to have it <em>confirmed</em>, is another matter entirely.</p><p>“Close enough,“ the oddity concedes at last. It gives Loki no satisfaction. “But there’s a lot of stuff in the middle I know even you can’t predict.“</p><p>“The details make no difference. The result is the same.“</p><p>“I disagree.“ Loki doesn’t grace this with an answer, but the Captain presses on. “And so would you, if you knew what they were.“</p><p>The fluctuating <em>drip, drip-drip</em> of water obscured in darkness pauses for a few seconds, then resumes.</p><p>“You’re remarkably mild-mannered for a man faced with an enemy fresh out of battle.“</p><p>The Captain doesn’t remark on his transparent diversion. Instead his lips twist in a faint, bitter smile that Loki can’t begin to deconstruct. “I had a change of perspective.“</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The other Steve, who Steve has secretly dubbed Junior in his head, returns not long after they have fallen silent. Still, by the time his silhouette appears at the entrance, the first rays of a marigold dawn are already flooding the floor of the cavern. He looks calmer now, if still slightly disoriented. Steve can relate. The helmet hangs in his lax grip, revealing blond hair plastered onto his forehead and sticking up at odd places. He avoids Loki’s inquisitive eyes as he makes his way to the alcove, and the way he carefully evades his older version’s outstretched leg like it’s on fire doesn’t escape Steve’s notice.</p><p>“Are we going?“</p><p>Steve raises his eyebrows at the energetic tone, and Junior looks briefly abashed but regains his bearings swiftly. “I figured we can’t stay in this cave forever.“ The next words are directed at Loki: “You said you know where the nearest village is? The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get out of here. And-“ he adds, scooping up the Tesseract and stuffing it into a bag in his belt with some difficulty “-I’m starving. I can’t speak for you, but I can’t live on berries.“</p><p>Steve licks his lips, suddenly conscious of the dryness of his tongue and the hollow pit in his stomach. With a vague sense of alarm he realises the last time he ate was at the compound, before they departed.</p><p>The couple of hours since feel like a lifetime. Every time he thinks he’s finally seen it all, the universe does one better. The price for getting too complacent, he supposes. Now he’s stuck here, in outer space, eleven years in the past, with an intergalactic war criminal who may or may not actually be that bad and a version of himself that hasn’t seen the universe die. Steve may be a fighter, but that’s five problems too many.</p><p>For no<span>w, he’s decided to focus on the immediate survival part. The freak-out will have to wait until he has a roof over his head.</span></p><p>“Take off these shackles and I’ll fell an elk for us,“ Loki proposes pleasantly, and despite himself Steve spends a second or two seriously considering the option. Junior gives the man a considering look that suggests he thought the same, but the moment lasts no longer than it takes to blink and then he’s shaking his head as if annoyed with himself.</p><p>Steve decides it’s time to step in. He rises to his feet and places his hands on his hips, hoping to create an aura of authority. “Loki?“</p><p>“Captain.“</p><p>Steve ignores his tone. If he wants this to work he’s going to have to maintain his composure. Luckily, having interacted with Tony recently means his skills aren’t as rusty as they might be. “The village. Think you could you lead us there?“</p><p>“Oh, I could, couldn’t I?“ says Loki sweetly. Steve’s souring expression only seems to serve to spur him on. “What’s stopping me from leading you astray, into your death? A nest of man-eating wolves or simple exposure – whatever is more convenient. I can think of several other methods that will do the trick.“</p><p>“He has a point,“ Junior murmurs. Steve isn’t so sure.</p><p>“Is that so?“ he says, crossing his arms and shifting his weight. Loki frowns, visibly put out, and Steve has to suppress his smile. “See, from where I’m standing, it seems like you’re not in the shape to pull off something like that. You’re beat up, bruised – I don’t know when you last slept or ate, but I’d bet twenty bucks it’s been a while. Not to mention those.“ He points at the shackles, and Loki’s arms twitch as if he’s itching to hide them from Steve’s gaze. “Don’t think Thor forgot to explain how they work.“</p><p>In the maturing daylight, it’s increasingly clear how true his words ring. The assortment of cuts on Loki’s face is already fading, thanks to Aesir super-healing, but he’s hunched over in a way that speaks of broken ribs. Although there’s no obvious injury, he holds his right arm close to his middle. Deep shadows like bruising under red-rimmed eyes and jutting cheekbones point to exhaustion and malnutrition. And if Loki thinks Steve hasn’t thought anything of the fact that he hasn’t tried to stand up yet, he’s wrong.</p><p>The well-being of his generals clearly isn’t one of Thanos’s top priorities.</p><p>Steve knew that already, of course, thanks to Thor’s attempts at clearing his brother’s name. That's what Steve assumes, anyway – he never sat them down for a proper talk. Never explained what it is exactly that makes him, over and over again, return to wounds that still bleed years later.</p><p>At the end of the day, all they have is random pieces of a much larger puzzle. Anything to do with his brother is a sore subject for Thor, the primary source of Loki-related information. Has been as long as Steve has known him, but after the snap the topic has been strictly off-limits. It's an unspoken rule, one no one wants to break. The most obscure details will set him off: the cry of a magpie, an innocuous comment about the weather. After a couple of episodes, they all knew better than to bring it up themselves.</p><p>But sometimes, during a visit to New Asgard, the dark of the night will coax out clues. Saltwater confessions between incoherent, drunken stuttering while Steve and Bruce guide their friend towards his cabin, to sleep and to forget, to pretend nothing happened the next day.</p><p>A fight, a fall. A gatekeeper’s sight, obscured. Stones, trials, nightmares in a prison cell. A refugee ship, attacked. Loki’s last words, frequently referenced, never repeated. Thor’s own suspicions, pieced together over years of silence, filling in negative space, painting a picture of the past based on the shape of its shadows.</p><p>It isn’t a lot. They didn’t push – Loki was dead, after all, and none of them wanted to deal with the fallout of reminding Thor of the fact. Now Steve wishes they had.</p><p>They don’t know the whole story.</p><p>That’s what he said to Junior. The truth, or enough of it for now, easier than admitting he doesn’t really know, either. Unsurprisingly, his younger self is unconvinced. After more than a decade, the attack isn’t as fresh in Steve's mind as it must be in Junior’s, but he remembers, too. The wild grins, the speeches, the absence of remorse in the aftermath.</p><p>The disinterest, the almost bored resignation in defeat. The indifference in the face of a certain death. Clint’s reluctant description of a higher authority, a being whose telepathic visits would have Loki’s hands shaking for hours forward. The way Loki’s gaze seems to keep fading in and out between the present moment and somewhere else, far away. The fact that he’s baiting them right now.</p><p>“You can try and self-sabotage all you want. The truth is, you need us, just as much as we need you.“ The gaze Loki directs at him could sour milk, but he doesn’t speak up. “Am I wrong?“</p><p>The echo of his own words clearly rankles. Loki tenses, revealing his teeth, and for a moment Steve thinks he’s miscalculated and braces for an attack. But Loki simply deflates, slumping against the wall like the display of aggression depleted whatever energy he had left.</p><p>“I know the way,“ Loki admits grudgingly, “but the hike isn’t a short one.“</p><p>“We can do long,“ Junior says, though by the hesitant note in his voice it’s clear he isn’t entirely convinced by Steve’s rationalisation. Steve lets that go for the moment and nods in agreement.</p><p>“It’s a plan. Loki? Can you walk?“</p><p>-</p><p>Loki can, in fact, walk.</p><p>Sort of. In a wobbly, stiff limp that all but confirms Steve’s suspicion about broken ribs, or some serious bruising at the very least. He’s shed the uppermost layers of his elaborate armour, a task he’s adamant to undertake on his own despite the extra challenge provided by his bound hands. Steve is left wondering how much the entire set weighs when the heap of metal plating and black leather left on the floor of the cave doesn’t seem to have noticeably diminished the gear still attached.</p><p>Loki takes the lead, followed by Junior and lastly Steve. Loki keeps throwing them sidelong glances, seeming reluctant to turn his back to an enemy, but doesn’t protest. He’s their guide, after all. Besides, the arrangement allows them to match Loki’s speed – a detail Steve reckons Loki has no complaints about, even if he’d never say as much.</p><p>Within minutes of departing Steve has determined that, as far as being stranded in outer space goes, Vanaheim isn’t the worst place to be.</p><p>Their cave burrows into steep, sandy brown rock reaching into the heights. Shielding his eyes from the morning sun, Steve can discern ropes of vine reaching over the edge, crawling along the rocky face. The ground at their feet dives down into a lush forest of trees that Steve would call oak if they were in New Jersey instead of an alien planet. Tall, dark, moss-covered trunks rise towards a dense ceiling of opal-shaped leaves with wavy edges. Steve pinches one from a low-hanging branch for examination to discover it covers the length of his hand from wrist to fingertips, and then some. Rays of morning light filter through the canopy, dotting the undergrowth with warm, glowing specks.</p><p>A few hours into their hike the welcome murmur of water alerts them of a little creek. The water is frigid but clear, and with Loki’s haughty blessing Steve drinks greedily. Having sated his thirst, other discomforts subdued by it rush to the forefront. There’s nothing to be done about the hunger digging a hole through his guts, but soaking his feet in cool water still feels pretty incredible. Later, Junior remembers the canteen Steve used to carry in his belt and stoops down to the stream to fill it while Steve sits on a thick, twisting root that follows the verge of the stream, waiting for his feet to dry enough to put his boots back on.</p><p>Steve is mournfully reaching for a grimy sock when movement at the corner of his eye catches his attention. A warning dies on his lips when he recognises Loki’s sharp silhouette. He’s facing away, but Steve can make out closed eyes, lax features, a face slightly angled towards the light.</p><p>Eventually, the forest begins to thin out. The wide trunks of deep woodland turn into slimmer, younger trees which then give way to reveal an undulating sea of long, yellow grass as long as eye can see. The strange sun has long since passed its zenith and shadows grow long as it now sinks into the clouds waiting in the horizon, colouring them in rich hues of coral and peach.</p><p>Steve is ravenously hungry.</p><p>“God. I’m so hungry,“ sighs Junior, slumping into the grass. Steve makes a vague sound of agreement. Talking to his own face still creeps him out, and he suspects the effect isn’t going to disappear anytime soon. If he’s honest with himself, this particular gap in their plan is starting to worry him, quiet trepidation gnawing at his gut. Or maybe that’s just the hunger, again.</p><p>If Loki’s estimation of ‘just shy of a hundred miles’ is accurate, they should, in theory, be able to make it into the village without food. The serum makes him sturdier than most humans, and Steve recalls Thor mentioning that the Aesir can go months without any nourishment. Then again, the topic of physical durability came up during a drinking contest following Thor showing up on the roof of Stark Tower with a barrel of mead that made even Steve light-headed. Having witnessed Thor’s interpretation of a traditional Aesir dance that night, performed atop a certain designer table that is no more, the assessment might have been an exaggeration.</p><p>Still, Steve’s fairly sure Loki can handle himself. On his own Steve could probably cover the distance in a day, but Loki won’t be running marathons anytime soon. He does some quick math in his head. Three days, give or take, assuming his Aesir healing kicks in soon.</p><p>It’s viable.</p><p>Doesn’t mean he’s dying to find out what a hundred mile trek on a water diet feels like.</p><p>“Hey, Loki!“</p><p>The god in question has wandered further away along the treeline, scanning the trunks as if looking for something. He doesn’t react to his name, and Steve’s positive it’s not due to a case of temporary deafness.</p><p>Junior stands up. “Lost your cat?“</p><p>This, too, fails to get Loki’s attention. Junior gives Steve a wary glance before starting to make his way over to the trees, Steve trailing after him. Loki’s eyes flit to them at the sound of rustling grass, but return to his mysterious task soon after. Then he stops, leans forward as if to listen to a whisper only he can hear, and disappears into the trees.</p><p>Junior curses and breaks into a run, Steve at his heels.</p><p>Loki hasn’t gone far.</p><p>“Is there a problem?“ he says as they come to a stop in front of him. The single raised eyebrow signals bored irritation, but Steve’s sure Loki knows exactly what he’s doing, and he doesn’t really care for it.</p><p>“Yeah, actually,“ Junior says sourly before Steve can speak up. “Namely, the part where you ran away without explanation. Ring any bells?“</p><p>“You have a curious understanding of the concept of ‘running away’,“ Loki shoots back, beginning to circle the tree in front of them. It’s a gnarled thing, a trunk as wide in diameter as Tony is tall splitting into a contorting jumble of branches that extend above the highest-reaching leaves of the surrounding trees. Its bark is grey and deeply ridged, the story of a millennium engraved into its skin.</p><p>This tree is old.</p><p>“Why did you want to find this tree?“ Steve inquires, failing to hide his genuine curiosity.</p><p>“Hush,“ Loki snaps, running his fingers along the length of the tree, brows drawn together in concentration. Steve grits his teeth, exhales.</p><p>“Look, I know we aren’t exactly friends, but none of us are gonna make it out of here if we keep-“</p><p>“I said, <em>hush</em>.“</p><p>Junior looks ready to grab their guide and drag him back bodily, but then Loki makes a satisfied sound as his fingers sink into the trunk. Literally disappear, as if the bark is no thicker than the air around them. The rest of his arms follow, until the man is shoulder deep in tree.</p><p>“Um, what’s going on?“ In lieu of answering Junior’s question Loki draws his hands back, holding something. As he does so, a golden-green ripple runs through the tree like a shudder, revealing a cleft in the trunk that definitely wasn’t there before. Steve knows his expression must reflect the perplexity he feels, because Loki gives him a smug little smirk.</p><p>“Care to explain?“</p><p>Loki lifts a hand to his heart, offended. The gesture is a bit awkward, what with the shackles still binding his wrists together. “What, no ‘thanks’?“ Under Steve’s chilly gaze he sighs and presents the object in his hand. It’s a satchel, well-loved but clearly once expensive. The mahogany leather is worn and the clasps and buckles have long since lost their shine, but there isn’t a speck of dirt on the thing. Whoever the bag belongs to can’t have left it here more than a couple of days ago.</p><p>Loki places the bag between his knees for ease of handling, ignoring Junior’s outstretched hand. He works the clasps open and reaches into the bag, conjuring a bundle of cream-coloured linen. Another bundle of dubious shape follows, then an apple. The first two he tosses at Steve and Junior respectively, and Steve catches his reflexively despite his growing confusion.</p><p>“What’s this?“ he asks intelligently. Loki gives him a blank look. Steve takes the hint and begins to peel back the fabric. Carefully, should something slimy and clawed leap at his unsuspecting face.</p><p>It’s… a bun, of some kind. Smooth, golden brown dough covered in seeds and nuts Steve doesn’t recognise, shaped into a ball that fits into Steve’s palm neatly. It’s still warm, like fresh from the oven, and its unexpected weight alludes to a filling of some kind.</p><p>The smell lights every taste bud on his tongue on fire.</p><p>“Hold on – you sure that’s a good idea?“ Steve tears his gaze from the bun to Junior, who is holding his own round piece of heaven with a battle between suspicion and the same desperate hunger Steve feels unfolding on his face. He’s startled to find the bun inches from his face, angled for a generous bite. With no small amount of regret Steve lowers the bundle.</p><p>Junior has a point. If the fairy tales he would sometimes read back in Brooklyn when he was too sick to go outside – which was often – taught him anything, it’s that eating questionable food offered by likely malevolent individuals in the woods is a bad idea.</p><p>“Loki… how did you know how to find these?“ he asks. It’s no accident that Loki chooses that exact moment to bite into his apple, then proceeds to take his time chewing. The bundle burns in Steve’s palm.</p><p>“Looking a gift horse in the mouth, Captains? Rude,“ Loki sighs at last with faux chagrin.</p><p>“Not when there’s a good chance the horse will kill me if I put it in my mouth,“ Junior counters.</p><p>“This metaphor is escaping you.“</p><p>“Don’t change the subject.“</p><p>Loki pauses, then steps forward, dropping his chin as scorn warps his features into a sneer that’d look more intimidating if he didn’t still favour his right side and walk with a hobble. “Maybe I <em>am</em> trying to poison you. Maybe this <em>is</em> another of my nefarious plots to slay Earth’s mightiest heroes – two at once, no less. Sort of. Why don’t you dig in and find out?“</p><p>Junior tenses as Loki approaches, face drawn taut with what Steve recognises as the anticipation to parry an incoming attack.</p><p>“Alright, gentlemen, that’s enough.“</p><p>Two pairs of eyes lock on him, but Steve holds his ground. Instead of continuing he settles for an expectant nod at Loki. Knowing that not providing the god of lies with more ammunition in the form of words to twist and deform might be the key to defusing this ticking bomb of a situation.</p><p>Loki’s eyes narrow a fraction. Then he straightens, smile dissipating like it was never there to begin with, and Steve barely holds back a sigh of relief.</p><p>“That the Tesseract transported us here was not entirely random,“ he says slowly, like explaining something complex and highly theoretical to a dim child. “Myself and- I ventured here on my travels some centuries ago and placed this cache here for later use. I meant to return for it later, but the circumstances… didn’t allow it. You are lucky that the protections I placed have held. As for your entirely warranted distrust-“ Loki leans back against the enormous trunk, crossing one leg over the other in the pretence of nonchalance “-you may rest easy knowing that if your death benefited me, this is not the way I would go about it.“</p><p>That doesn’t necessarily make Steve feel more confident in Loki’s loyalties, such as they are, but beggars can’t be choosers.</p><p>“See? I knew we’d reach an understanding,“ he smiles at his companions before lowering himself on the ground and, finally, sinking his teeth in spongy dough, unaffected by the guarded look on one side and the open glare on another. Maybe it’s his stomach thinking for him, but he can’t bring himself to dwell on Loki’s explanation. Whatever reservations he still had are gone by the time the salty aroma of meat and root vegetables explodes on his tongue, proving his earlier hypothesis correct. The expression on his face must be nothing short of euphoric, but Steve can’t bring himself to care.</p><p>“Thanks, Loki,“ he manages around a mouthful of perfection. Next to him, Junior is devouring his bun with a fervency that belies his scepticism. At Steve’s words Loki spins to face him. He blinks once, then snorts, looking away.</p><p>“Have you already forgotten your own words? I am at your mercy. Your continued survival is in my best interest, just as much as it is in yours.“</p><p>Steve hums neutrally and takes another bite of his bun.</p><p>-</p><p>Loki’s satchel holds even more happy surprises. Dried fruit in a silken pouch, pear and apple and something chewy, almost bitter that Steve can’t place. A cloak made of dark wool, trimmed with fur. Entirely too warm for the kind of weather they’ve been enduring so far – Steve’s getting really, really tired of spandex. Rope, firm and robust, almost metallic. A long knife in its sheath, seen its fair share of use but well maintained and sharp.</p><p>“What would you need to carry a knife for? I thought you could just pull some out of thin air?“</p><p>“This isn’t mine. And I can’t conjure objects out of thin air. I’m not one of the charlatan ‘magicians’ of your realm.“</p><p>“Not a fan of rabbits?“</p><p>“Not particularly. Which might be of interest to you if you intend to pursue this line of conversation and value your humanoid form.“</p><p>Two flasks, one filled with water, another with something amber-coloured with a sweet but intense scent. Upon Steve’s reluctantly curious inquiry, Loki hands him the flask with a sly smile that widens at the forceful coughing fit that follows. They save most of the fruit for later, as well as a loaf of dense bread with berries baked into it and a bag of something that might or might not be beef jerky.</p><p>The sun has disappeared below the horizon by the time they finish admiring Loki’s findings, the lingering glow of sunset chased over the edge the sky by an inky blue night. The meal sits heavy in Steve’s stomach after a day of fasting, and as a chill begins to settle over the field his body retires. Huge yawns stretch his jaw to its limits and keeping his eyes open is more and more of a challenge. The physical effort of the miles behind them was a cakewalk to a super-soldier, sure, but the sleepless night, the time- and space-travel and a fickle travelling companion with a hair-trigger temper create a mix that has taken its toll.</p><p>Loki, of course, opposes the idea of settling down for the night. The idea which Junior presents just as Steve opens his mouth to do the same, inducing an unpleasant shiver at the back of his neck. Fortunately, their guide caves uncharacteristically easily, a stroke of luck Steve gathers is Loki speak for ‘yes please, I’m spent and my various injuries which I refuse to acknowledge are killing me’. Not that he would call him out on it. Loki might be chained up and powerless, but Steve isn’t interested in going back to ‘actively murderous’ from the tenacious ‘passively hostile’ they’ve established.</p><p>They pitch camp. Or something close enough.</p><p>‘Camp’ might be too generous a term, given that they have no way of lighting a fire (“I could have ignited the forest with little more than a thought. What would I have needed a tinderbox for?“) and no shelter to speak of. Let alone luxury items like sleeping bags, or a kettle.</p><p>It isn’t the worst place Steve has slept in. Far from it – memories of murky tents, critters with too many legs and the stench of rotting wounds can attest that. The trees offer some protection from the cool breeze that sends ripples across the grassy field, as well as from the unexpected brightness of the moons overhead that has the world swimming in pearly blue. Steve counts five.</p><p>Still, the trees don’t ward off the chill, and Steve is crudely reminded of the fact that this early version of his suit is mostly spandex and kevlar. The now-cold sweat doesn’t help.</p><p>He entertains the thought of fetching the cloak still safely stashed in the satchel, then decides against it. Earlier, when the heat of the day still lingered, he offered it to Loki first and was met with contemptuous refusal, then to Junior who likewise turned him down, though more politely. The first is leaning against the grand trunk of the stash tree, eyes closed and deathly still, but Steve’d be willing to bet he isn’t asleep. The latter sits facing him, keeping watch in case Loki experiences a sudden midnight craving for some Tesseract. Both awake, alert. Privately Steve decides to grab the cloak once his own shift begins.</p><p>A lone bird cries into the night, but otherwise it is silent. The chirp of crickets would complete the picture of a late summer night, but Steve has yet to hear any. Maybe this planet doesn’t have crickets. Or whatever the space equivalent is.</p><p>That’s his last thought before exhaustion takes over.</p>
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